


Howard "Monstrous" Moon: Man Of Action

by 19_empty_vacancies



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Because Howard being a werewolf needed to be done, Gen, M/M, Uncles with confusingly rich job histories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-02-02 09:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19_empty_vacancies/pseuds/19_empty_vacancies
Summary: “If I want to be a man of action,” he’d said, “then I need to discover what’s out there, if it’s normal or a monster.” Here his voice had trembled, but his only audience had been Rudy, the toy dog which he’d placed in front of him, and he wouldn’t judge Howard for showing a bit of fear. “And if it is a monster then I shall alert the proper authorities. Let them handle it.”





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a wip that's been haunting me and this may be the only chapter I upload for a while, purely because I'm using it as a commitment to finish the bloody story. Not sure how long it'll be so I guess we'll figure that out together. 
> 
> If you see mistakes, please tell me. I'm working on caffine fumes and engery drinks and tend to miss things.

He was eight when he was bitten.

Actually.

No, hang on, ravaged upon seemed to be a better term for what happened to him that evening.

The country side was sprawling and speckled with dense forest, his uncle’s house laid tightly nestled by heavy trees so closely packed you couldn’t see more than a couple meters in before everything was shadowed. Why on earth his uncle would want to live so on top of an obviously haunted forest Howard didn’t know. His uncle, in his opinion, had gone crazy, wanting to live so far away from people and the shops but his dad said that he wasn’t comfortable in crowds anymore. Something to do with a war and wanting to focus on his new job. It was something along those lines; Howard didn’t care.

What he _did_ care about was the fact that for the last two nights all he could hear were horrible noises coming from deep in the forest. He’d gone to the window the first night to see if he could spy what was the cause for the hair-raising racket but even with the couple meters of backyard being moon drenched, he couldn’t see anything.

At least, not until he trained his eyes further up to look deeper through the trees and proceeded to lock eyes with something.

Howard’s breath lodged in his throat as goosebumps rippled out from between his shoulders and down his arms to tingle in his fingertips. The moment had hung suspended in the air as deep red eyes watched Howard from the dark growth close to the forest floor.

It was broken when Howard jerked the curtains back across the window and dove back into bed, blankets flying over his head as he curled up in fright, breath finally escaping his lungs in pants while he clutched his small toy dog.

The second night had been spent with the curtains firmly closed and huddled tightly beneath his blankets, eyes tightly squeezed shut as the noises from the forest seemed to grow louder.

The third day of visiting his uncle dawned with a heavy fog blanketing the ground, which totally didn’t help the utter creep factor of the woods or the fear that still sat heavy in Howard’s bones. But…but Howard couldn’t let his fear control him, he wanted to grow up and be a man of action! Oh, yes sir.

And men of action don’t fear the things hiding in the dark. Oh no! They seek _out_ the things hiding in the dark and uncover all manner of things.

“If I want to be a man of action,” he’d said, “then I need to discover what’s out there, if it’s normal or a monster.” Here his voice had trembled, but his only audience had been Rudy, the toy dog which he’d placed in front of him, and he wouldn’t judge Howard for showing a bit of fear. “And if it _is_ a monster then I shall alert the proper authorities. Let them handle it.”

Rudy sat there like the inanimate object he was, silent as his plastic eyes bore into Howard’s.

“You’re right,” Howard had nodded, “I, like all men of action, need to come up with a plan of attack. I need to do this carefully. Can’t have all this be ruined by a bad plan or wrong step.”

(This of course, was the moment Howard jinxed himself.)

Like a true man of action in the making, Howard had prepared for his mission, starting with making a list and then wondering what exactly he should put on his list.

His uncle had given him a bemused smile when he asked if he kept any long-bundled rope on hand.

Torso deep in the shed, his uncle asked, “What exactly do you need rope for?” and let out a delighted noise when Howard puffed up his chest and proclaimed, “I’m on a mission, Uncle John, and I gotta use the rope so I don’t get lost.”

His uncle nodded seriously. “Getting lost would be a terrible thing indeed, Howard, rope is an excellent idea. But tell me, how’re you gonna use it?”

This lead to an hour of Howard learning different types of knots and which ones are best to use in different situations. Howard was glad his uncle was taking his mission so seriously, unlike his dad who’d snorted at him and then said he was going into the nearby town to pick up more food. His uncle had even dug out the heavy-duty torch from the hall cupboard so he could be proper ready for anything.

“Dark could happen all of a sudden! You havta be ready.”

Howard had nodded seriously and taken the torch, tucking it into his backpack with the rest of his supplies. Supplies which were a couple of sandwiches, his water bottle and pieces of ribbon to use as site markers. By the time he’d made his plan and gathered all his supplies it was already well into the afternoon and he was anxious to get out and explore.

His uncle stood before the backdoor and looked down at him seriously. “Equipment checks. Got ya rope?” Howard patted the rope slung across his chest and nodded. “Ya torch?” was met with a similar motion, this time at his hip where he’d fed it through his belt after deciding it was better to have it easier on hand. “Food and water?”, “Got a pad for field notes?” and “Ya scarf” were both met with firm nods, “All in my bag, Uncle John.”

His uncle nodded and then held out a walkie talkie, “Take this, keep me updated at half hour intervals okay? As soon as it’s dark I want to you to come back. Be careful and have fun. If you find anything or think you’re lost, radio me and I’ll come okay?”

Howard grinned, “You got it.”

The mission, suppose you could say, had gone swimmingly. Howard followed his mission statement to the letter and he _did_ find the thing that had been the cause of the goosebumps and scary noises. It’s just, well, the execution _was_ rather shit.

He’d started out by tying his guide rope to the nozzle of the hose on the side of the house for extra length and looped it around his waist like his uncle had shown him, double checking it was secure before entering the woods.

The density of the forest reared its head when after walking not even ten meters in, all light from behind the clouds was obscured, unable to penetrate the canopy. Torch out, Howard had soon found evidence of disturbed vegetation and quickly took note of it in his pad. Finding the animal tracks had come an hour later. Howard had taken that as a sign for a break, so he could try and draw the prints to show his uncle. It also doubled as a food break, as any man of action knows to utilize his time.

Obviously. Because Howard was a man of action.

Everything was going to plan, Howard radioed his uncle as a part of his half hourly updates agreement to excitedly tell him he’d found animal tracks and that he was going to follow them now that he’d finished making his notes. Going further became a problem twenty minutes later when he suddenly ran out of rope, jerking to a stop.

He was deciding if he should proceed back to the house or risk slipping the rope when his walkie crackled to life, “It’s almost completely dark out, Howard. You should be back by now.”

Surprise made Howard blink, how long had he been out exploring and searching? “Sorry, Uncle John, didn’t notice it getting late, it’s already so dark in here.” Looking around, Howard spotted a good place to put a sight marker so he’d remember how far he’d ventured for tomorrow. “I’m just going to put down a marker and then I’ll come back.”

“Best hurry, squirt, your da’s going spare.”

This is just about the moment when the mission went tits up.

Howard, crouched down to tie some of the ribbon he’d brought with him for this exact reason, made sure to double knot it so it wouldn’t fall off if some animal brushed by it. He was just rising when the goosebumps flared up, his first warning that something wasn’t right.

The second was the fact that the entire forest around him had gone silent, even the insects, and those scary monster noises he’d been hearing for the past two nights were almost right on top of him. Howard had just enough time to jump out of the way of something huge flying out at him, loud snarls echoing around the trees.

He was on his feet and running before he could even think about it, hand jolting up so he could shout into the walkie for his uncle to come help him, that something huge was chasing him. His uncle’s reply was lost to him as Howard had the misfortune of tripping over the tangled roots of some old twisted tree and he went down.

His memories after that were spotty, but he remembers the pain of falling face first into the dirt, nose crunching on impact and then the horrible pain of jaws clamping down on his right shoulder again and again as the monster tried to get a good hold to turn him over.

There were vague flashes of his dad and uncle running through the trees, flashlight beams bouncing and his uncle raising a rifle, of his dad crying out at the sight of him and his uncle pressing down on his shoulder, of trees swaying back and forth as his dad carried him out of the forest and into the car.

After that it goes dark.

 

And then next month happens.

 


	2. Acceptance

Waking up in the hospital was well disorientating. Even more so was the total absence of feeling on the left side of his body. A glance showed that his arm was still there; fully attached, present and completely swaddled in bandages. Some were spotty in places with blood.

So that run in with the monster was real then.

Excellent, always good for confirmation. Howard wasn’t panicking at all. Nope. He was cool as a cucumber, cool like the arctic tundra. Cool like other cold things. Panic was as far off as something really far away.

Howard couldn’t think of any good metaphors at the moment because he was busy not panicking but he knew he’d think of them later when he wasn’t trying so hard. He needed to breathe, he was fine, his uncle had gotten his dad and they’d both gotten him away from the monster and to the proper health care officials; he was in good hands. He was safe, and that thing couldn’t get to him and he wouldn’t be hearing those awful scary noises at night.

Soon he’d be told he could leave and put this all behind him.

(Yeah. That didn’t happen.)

 

It became evident that it was no normal creature that bit him when a week after being released from hospital, his dad had peeled back his bandages to clean the wound and all that remained were raised rose pink scars curling their way from his scapula over his shoulder and down his collar bone. Stray individual spots of scarring speckled up his neck slightly and down his arm from shallow teeth marks. While painting a gruesome picture of attack, it was all very well healed.

Weeks before the doctors said it should be.

Howard met his dad’s eyes and they shared a bewildered look before glancing down at the healed skin once more.

His dad’s face scrunched up, eyes narrowing as he oh so gently brushed his fingers across the ball of his shoulder. “Uhhhm.”

Howard nodded seriously. This wasn’t normal, he and his dad were in agreement, and it could mean only one thing. “Research.” His dad’s pale brown eyes looked up at him, partially hidden from errant curls slipping down and were clouded with confusion. He should really work on that, Howard can’t be the only one thinking clearly in his family.

“We need to do research, look up what this all means. There’s got to be some case of this happening before.”

Hand running down his face, his dad shook his head and quirked the faintest of smiles; more a twitch of his mouth but it counts. “How is _research_ your first thought when faced with this situation, Howard?”

Howard shrugged. “I dunno, but research and investigating are like, the first things they do in _The Famous Five_. And _Scooby Doo._ Things seem to always work out for them in the end, so it should do for us.”

Turns out, everything they searched through lead them back to the same place.

 

Sat across from each other on the floor of their living room, Howard and his dad were surrounded by books of all sorts, some stacked up, others face down and bent paged after being thrown down in frustration.

(Lyall later hoped, as he picked them all up, that they wouldn’t get in trouble with the librarian for that.)

Howard had succumbed to the reality of what was happening to him about three hours ago and has since then been looking over his field notes from that afternoon and comparing it to various literatures and recording the clarities.

His dad, on the other hand, was still in denial.

“Okay, fuck, I give up.” Face buried in his hands, only his dad’s curly hair could be seen. He sighed and scrubbed at the two-day growth darkening his cheeks and neck. Peeking over the tops of his fingers, his dad met his eyes and Howard watched the acceptance clear away all doubt. “But I want to make one thing clear,” His accent thickened the vowels with his stress. “You are _not_ a monster. You hear me, Moonbeam? You’re not. Christ, you’re the furthest fucking thing from being a monster as you could possibly get.”

Howard had his doubts, that thing had had red eyes and sounded pretty monster-like. So surely it would stand to reason that that would transfer over to him.

But he was a kid trying to be the best he could for his dad, so he nodded. “I know, dad.”

His dad nodded and covered his face again with a groan. “A werewolf. What the fuck is our lives anymore?”

 

Howard was devastatingly unfrightening.

Granted, it was difficult to be a terrifying beast when you’re eight-years-old and your affliction turns you into a pup. Which, alright fair enough, Howard _is_ slightly bigger than your standard wolf pup. But in the grand scheme of things, what with all the pain he went through to get to this point, he (and his dad) were kind of expecting something more…well _more._

So far, the only frightening thing about the whole ordeal was having to go through the pain of all his bones snapping and reforming, of feeling like his organs were ripping through his stomach and his skin feeling like it’s being flayed off.

(And as horrible as it may sound, the last two had just been the buildup for the transformation; like some sort god awful preview of what was to come.)

Christy does he hope he gets used to the pain.

The night passes uneventfully. They had a plan for the evening and it goes swimmingly; much better than the _last_ plan that was supposed to go swimmingly.

His dad ran him round to eat up some of his energy, played tug of war with random objects, took notes about coloration and size in his notebook and then sat there peacefully when Howard collapsed in his lap, small body heaving with exerted breaths. Perfectly ordinary brown eyes closing for a nap.

Fingers curling into the soft fur of his son’s neck, all Lyall could hope for was that the change back wasn’t as awful.

 

It was.


	3. Lyall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into Howard's dad's psyche.

Howard had finally fallen asleep and Lyall felt like now, right now at some hellish time of the early morning was the perfect time to freak out. It was a perfectly optimal time what with his son being so exhausted from the – you know what, it’s probably better for his mental health if he didn’t think about what his son, his precious little Moonbeam, had had to go through tonight.

Not even tonight.

For the past week he’s gotten up in the middle of the night to find Howard laying the bath, fully submerged and still clothed, in water so hot he could see the steam rising. Brown eyes inherited from his side of the family turning on him with the saddest sheen to them as he explained that he had terrible pain in his joints and feet and that the hot water helped. Every night, Lyall had taken to rubbing liberal amounts of tiger balm on Howard’s knees and feet, hoping it’d help with his pain.

But after seeing what his little boy was going through, after watching, _hearing_ and (Christ) documenting the changes like Howard asked him to, Lyall was just about ready to break down. And so, he does the one thing guaranteed to help make him feel better; he calls his brother.

And proceeds to then have an anxiety attack.

“Hey, hey, Ly, breathe. _Breathe_ , big brother.” John’s voice echoes up to him, same as it did when he’d be standing in the depths of the caves they used to explore when they were kids; all hollow and wobbly, distorting his usually deep voice into something not quite right. 

“C’mon, Ly, you just havta breathe for me and listen to my voice. Follow it back.”

He drew in a deep breath and followed it with another and another until Lyall felt the fluttering in his chest calm down and the tremors in his hands ease enough to raise them and rub at his face, at his eyes and cheeks in an effort to come back to himself properly. Somewhat back to his standard self, Lyall picked the house phone up from his lap where it had dropped and lifted it back to his ear.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

Slight distortion in the speaker reflected his brother’s sigh. “It’s nothing. I take it Howard’s asleep then. How…how did this evening go?”

A mirthless chuckle escaped unbidden as he rubbed above his right eye. “Fuckin’ awful. If there was a way to erase it from my memories I would do it in a heartbeat. But it’s burnt in there, just fucking stamped in and never ever leaving. My nightmares of him being attacked last month are going to be replaced by this, I swear. And he handled it so well, Johnny, put on a brave face an’ everything but he shouldn’t need to go through this.”

“He shouldn’t, you know it and I know it. But as much as I hate it, it’s outta our hands.”

“The noises, God, I don’t think I’ll ever get over the noises.”

There was a faint ruffling from down the line and Lyall could so clearly envision his brother scrubbing a hand down his face as he sighed that it was almost as if he could see him sitting on the kitchen floor across from him.

Which brings forth the question, when did he enter the kitchen? Lyall frowned at the cupboards across from him in confusion but brushed it away, it was of no consequence now. 

He was talking to his brother because he promised to keep him abreast of the plan they’d come up with for the night and that was what he needed to focus on.

Howard hadn’t seemed like he noticed his absolute fear that something would go wrong and he’d do something absolutely irreversible that’d end up with Howard hating him, so it seems like it was a success. Other than his Moonbeam’s body twisting and contorting to fit his different shape.

John’s voice brought him back to the present, “How did the plan go?”

Lyall grounded himself by hyper focusing on the fact that one of the kitchen chairs’ leg was sitting on a cross section in the tiles. “It went.” He should really turn on a light, everything was washed in a weird grey blue.

“I need more details than that, big brother.”

“I mean it all went as we planned, I tired him out, I took his fucking notes and a picture of what he looks like, we ran around the house and he eventually fell asleep.”

There was silence for a moment as his brother gathered his thoughts in order. “Did,” a static sigh came through the speaker, “did he at least get to sleep through it going back?”

“No, the pain woke him up. Was awful, all these small whines and sad sounds. He was in so much pain that as soon as he was finished I put him a hot bath, thought maybe that’d help.”

“Did it?”

“Christ, I hope so. It’s what he’s been doing when his pain’s really bad and he can’t sleep.  Gave him some Panadol and tucked him in with a hot water bottle. Should’ve seen the way he curled around it, I ended up filling the other one and tucking it against ‘is back, hopefully it helps.” He’s probably going to need to change them soon, no doubt they’re no longer warm.

“Can’t hurt. Not like we’re strangers to extreme joint pain. Granted it’s nowhere near to the scale Moonbeam is feeling but still, probably doesn’t help that he’ll most likely being getting that on top of his wolf pain stuff.”

Despite the situation, Lyall felt himself smile. “I don’t think the pain we get in our knees will really phase him after what I’ve seen. I think what’s most likely tissue pain is a little bit low on his list of problems.”

“So,” John’s voice warms slightly, curling smile clear in his tone, “how does the tyke look?”

“Like the least threatening, most adorable thing you could ever encounter.”

 

Half an hour later, Lyall ended his conversation with his brother and blindly reached up over the counter to place it back on its cradle. It took five tries before the fumbling sound of plastic on plastic was heard, signalling his success.

He sat there for a moment longer, just trying to centre himself. He was twenty-seven, he lived on the outskirts of town, was raising his newly werewolf-ified son alone and was pretty sure that the stress of everything was already making his hair fall out; he’d looked in the mirror yesterday and could’ve sworn that his moustache was thinner than it usually was.

Groaning, Lyall leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees and covered his face.

Christ, if Howard’s mum was still around she’d be well mad at what had happened. Probably would’ve spun the blame onto him, all vitriol and spite laced tones, each word dripping poison barbs against him and his brother. But she’d left years ago. And she, with her venomous words and hate pumping in place of blood, would never find out.

Letting out one last heaving breath, Lyall pushed himself up and made his way out of the kitchen to double check the house was locked up.

All he wanted to do was hug his kid and sleep, to just put an end to this shitty day and hope that the tomorrow would be slightly better. So that’s what he did. He climbed the stairs, changed Howard’s hot water bottles and collapsed on the bed beside his son, pulling him close and fell into an uneasy sleep.

But you know what? The next day _was_ slightly better. And the week after went even smoother.


	4. Game Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I just wanted to let you know that I went back and edited the previous chapters because hoo boy, there were a lot of mistakes and missed words, so I've revised and added some extra info. Just informing you in case you wanted to see what's changed.

Howard wasn’t fucking kidding around when he said that research was a good place to start. Then again, Lyall never thought his son was a liar. Far be it, his son was just super into learning; the amount of times he’d commandeered his library card before getting one of his own had been ridiculous. Then again, he’d probably gotten the notion that research solves all from John; not just from _The Famous Five_ and _Scooby Doo_ like he had said. That was the sort of thing his brother would impart on Howard, research being the greatest tool you can use, what with his new occupation as a researcher.

What John researches and who contacts him for the research, who fucking knows. Lyall certainly didn’t but that was because when you got John going, he can and _will_ go for hours and it was always best to not get him started. All Lyall knew was that the research varied subjects from person to person and that his brother was a fucking genius. He was just disguised as an idiot.

Which was why he’d called him to help sort out everything they’d need to know to help their favourite kid.

(Howard was, to be honest, the only kid they knew. And liked. All the others at Howard’s primary were awful and loud and their parents weren’t much better.)

The two sat across from each other, identical curly haired heads bowed over their respective books. John hadn’t wasted any time after he’d hung up. But then, Lyall didn’t think he would. John had always been prepared to drop everything to come if he needed to and their Moonbeam’s health and wellbeing was a pretty big reason to.

This would mark the second time that the living room floor would act as a study tool. Multiple pens were lying about, discarded after having discovered they didn’t work, a couple of notebooks spread around as well as a large sheet of paper that John used as a sort of chart. He’d marked things to look out for, plants that could potentially be poisonous now that previously weren’t, what foods Howard may not be able have anymore. There was already a fair amount down and that was just pertaining to his son’s new furry little problem.

John had charted what time of month to expect the full moon and the times of day that it would rise. They were all over the place, some months the moon would rise in the early afternoon, some late at night. But it was best to have more information than less and they wanted to have leeway in case Howard was extremely sensitive to the moon. There was a chance that he would change the night before the full moon and stay changed for the three days it took the moon to pass through its largest stage.

The moon just gone wasn’t a clear indicator to the pattern that was sure to arise in the future.

“Looks like we’re going to need to contact the squirt’s school, get him deregistered. The way these times are going and how tuckered out he was, he won’t be able to focus in a classroom and he’d be missing a lot of days.”

Lyall looked up from his book in time to watch his brother flop backwards and wiggle into a comfortable position on the rug. John settled before letting out a huff, arching his back to pull at where his jumper had bunched up.

“If we pull him from school, we have to be definitely sure that we can teach him what he needs to know.”

“That’s the easy part, Ly. Moonbeam is like a sponge when it comes to learning and we’re equally divided in what we know. Alls we gotta do is put our knowledge into practice. We’ll cover the basics of what he’s already been learning in class and then what he also needs to know. Practical stuff; sewing, cooking and…uh, other things he needs to know…whatever else we can think of.” John scrunched his face up, annoyed that his sentence had gotten away from him.

“Well we won’t need to worry about sewing; Howard’s been sewing Rudy back together for the past two years. And he’s taken to elbow patches, keeps asking what sorts would look good on his coat.”

John snorted, “Your son’s a definite character. What got him hung up on elbow patches of all things?”

Lyall shrugged. “He’s been watching a lot of Monty Python; I think he’s got a crush on Michael Palin.”

“Fair enough, Palin was pretty good looking when he was younger.”

Stifling a laugh, Lyall closed the book in his lap and placed it with the others before flopping down to join his brother in looking at the ceiling. “We’ll let Howard finish out the week at school and we’ll talk to him about home education after we pick him up this afternoon.”

John turned with a smile, “I’m coming to get him?”

“It’ll be a nice change for the kid,” Lyall agreed. “Besides, dealing with the other parents at pick up is a nightmare. They’re a pack of animals, I swear. You should hear the shite they say when they think they’re whispering, all disdain and spite.”

“They’re just pissed because they’re ancient crones who can’t handle the fact that you’re a great dad who still looks like he’s fucking nineteen and has a son who loves you instead of hating your guts. Jealous, the lotta them.”

 

“You really weren’t kidding; those were some bitchy parents.” John was still surprised at how catty some of those mums were and how they didn’t seem to care that they were perfectly within hearing distance. Or that Howard was also hearing what they were saying.

Lyall shrugged as he swung his hand holding Howard’s. “Told you man, they’re vicious.”

“Want me to go back and let the air out of their tires?” John looked over Howard’s head at his brother, eyes bright with the idea of retribution. “I promise they won’t even know I’m there. I’m a shadow, I was the best in my unit at sneaking around.”

Lyall turned to his brother with raised eyebrows, “You’re asking me this now? After all that chatting you’ve been doing, you’re asking me as we walk up to the door? ‘S a little late, but maybe next time. Besides-” Lyall fished his keys from his pocket- “you’re good at sneaking around because mum would threaten you with the wooden spoon if she caught you doing anything naughty.”

John grinned, “She never did.”

“She knew everything you were up to.”

“Did she though?”

Lyall opened the door and guided Howard in first. “Yes, despite what you think, mum always knew what you were doing. There was no pulling anything over her.”

John snorted as he stepped through the door, the two of them hearing the noises of Howard dropping his bag on the kitchen table and pulling out his lunchbox before hearing him call out, “Hey, dad! What’s all this?”

“Research,” John called back, moving past Lyall as he locked the door, his voice mingling with Howard’s as they talked about what he’d been researching.

 

As far as serious conversations go, the one where he had to explain just why it was that Howard wouldn’t be in school anymore went fairly well. Startlingly well to be honest. It felt a bit like a conference meeting, he and John sitting on the couch in front of Howard, for all of thirty seconds when, “The couch feels well serious.” John muttered, “Best not.” They both slipped off the couch and sat on the floor and crossed their legs, motions perfectly in sync.

Howard watched the two, confusion clear on his face while he leaned his elbows on his crossed knees. “What’s going on? Why’re you two looking so serious?”

They shared a look, John nodding in Howard’s direction and lifted his brows; the face he’s made since he was six to ask nonverbally ‘you wanna tell ‘em or should I?’. Lyall shrugged and nodded back before they both turned to face the eight-year-old across from them.

Straightening his shoulders, John announced, “We think we should pull you from school and teach you ourselves.” Howard blinked in surprise which then made way for a hesitant smile. Which was not the reaction either were expecting.

John looked at Howard closely and for a moment a frown marred his face before clearing away. “We figured you’d get more out of learning with us, we can venture out and do field work; have a more personalized environment y’know? Plus, we won’t need to worry about calls home because you’ve missed some amount of days off.”

Howard nodded in understanding. “When do I stop going to school?”

Howard was giving them both the most hopeful expression which pulled at something in both brothers’ chests. Lyall really was confused. “We figured we’d let you finish out the week, I’m going in tomorrow to get you deregistered and then it’s all us from then on.”

“We thought we’d split the time,” John added. “Half of your time here, so you can do your theory learning and then half of your time at my place where we can do practical learning, go out into the fields and get you identifying things.”

Howard grinned, “Like a real man of action?”

John nodded, “Exactly like a man of action.”

Lyall looked closely at his son, chewing the inside of his lip. “You’re sure you’re okay with that, baby?”

Howard’s head of curls bounced with how fast he nodded. “Yeah, dad.”

“Alright then. Now, do you have any homework? You don’t get a free pass just because you’re leaving.”

Howard shook his head, “No, I did it all during lunch.”

John smiled as he leaned back against the couch. “Good stuff, squirt. You can go off if you want, our serious chat is done with.” Howard wasted no time scrambling off the couch and disappearing up the stairs. Soon after faint strains of music began coming from his room. 

Groaning softly, Lyall mirrored John’s position against the couch and rubbed his hands down his face. “Howard doesn’t have any friends, does he?”

John sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t think so. He agreed to leave school without a second thought, was happy it was happening. At best, he has no friends; at worst, he has no friends and is also being bullied.”

Lyall’s hands pressed harder into his face as he suppressed the urge to just groan for a solid hour.

“I fucking hate school kids.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For updates on this fic, hit up my [tumblr](https://falling-into-vacancies.tumblr.com/) because I post about this fic fairly consistently. Usually under the "werewolf!howard" tag.


	5. Rumbles

Howard stood on the cusp of the tree line, not really doing much other than regarding it with suspicion and the usual amount of fear an utterly creepy and perpetually dark wood deserves. Fear in a healthy dose, a comfortable serve of it like two Weetabix and just the bare minimum amount of milk so they don’t go too soggy. Uncle John had staked out the forest last month, waiting to see if the monster would come back but it didn’t.

All had been quiet here for those three nights and now, starring at the nearly definitely haunted forest, Howard knew that at least the only thing in there that’ll hold any potential to harm anyone this month will be him.

Of course, his dad said that a rubber plant was more terrifying than he, so that was to be debated.

And look, while that was all well and good, it didn’t change the fact that he held a healthy fear of the place. It hadn’t stopped him from exploring the forest two months ago when he’d first heard those scary, goosepimply and he wasn’t going to let it hold him back now. Besides, he was a man of action. He needed to get over his fears of this wood; it wouldn’t do for him to be terrified of the area he would be haunting three days a month and he needed to know the lay of the land.

Also, you know, having some idea of which plants he should be able to identify and avoid because they were poisonous to him now seemed like it would come in handy. His uncle had shown him the list of various plant life that may prove to be his downfall and he very much wanted to know exactly what it was that he had to avoid.

Which was why he was standing _just_ on the edge of the forest.

His first lesson in flora and fauna was today and he was waiting for his uncle to finish up in shed. What exactly he was doing in there wasn’t something Howard really cared about; why both his dad and uncle thought he didn’t know they went in there to hide their smoking was beyond him. It was fairly obvious what with spirals of wispy smoke edging its way up through the door and the way they both came out reeking despite having hastily sprayed deodorant.

Whatever. At least his uncle was doing it where it wouldn’t cause harm to the natural order of the forest. The last thing Howard wanted was to leave a trail of rubbish as a guide; it was disrespectful to the environment.

His uncle appeared by his side and stood silently; chewing the inside of his bottom lip as he considered the forest.  Howard had the feeling that his uncle was just as unnerved by it as he was; most probably more so because he was the one who had to get the thing away from him.

_You’re a man of action, you can do this._

Squaring his shoulders, Howard straightened up and nodded. “You ready to show me the world of dendrology?”

His uncle snorted, “I don’t think that’s right, I plan on showing you more than just trees. But yes,” his uncle paused, eyes slipping closed as he took a composing breath, “I’m ready, let’s do this, Moonbeam. Let me learn you a thing.”

His uncle began a purposeful stride into the forest and Howard quickly followed.

If his uncle could go into the forest of very real nightmares, then so could he.

 

Howard tucked himself close to his dad’s chest, ever cautious about applying too much pressure on his dad’s ribs and stomach (“Christ you have sharp elbows, Moonbeam, watch where you put them!”) or falling off the couch as they watched telly together. Laying like this helped ease the tightness in his chest, lessened it until it was almost completely imperceptible, and he felt that satisfied hum low in his ribs. He’d noticed it a week or so after the first moon, how it increased when he was away from his family, the way it squeezed and pulled like it wanted to drag him bodily back to his dad and their small cozy house.

Faint vibrations of his dad laughing made him open his eyes (narrow, he’d been on the cusp of sleep) and tilt his head up to frown at his dad’s chin.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just,” his dad snickered while lifting a hand to rub through Howard’s hair. “You made this rumbly noise. I think you purr, Moonbeam.”

Howard was completely unable to stop the huff that escaped. “Wolves don’t purr, dad. And I doubt werewolves can either.”

His dad hummed quietly in thought as he began twisting a random curl. “Maybe it’s just a Howard thing then. Something that happens when you’re happy.”

Playing with his hair had always been his weakness, something both his dad and uncle John used whenever he was sick, or the moon had taken a lot out of him and he needed to sleep. His Achilles’ heel meant that his eyes were getting heavy again. “Maybe, dad. I’ll-” Howard yawned suddenly and snuggled closer into his dad’s soft jumper- “look it up later.”

The warmth surrounding him was pulling Howard deep into the land of dreams, his dad’s familiar smell cloying up every now and then with his minor movements. That place deep in his chest, hidden beneath his ribs whispered to him about _safe_ and _home_ and _pack_ and _protected;_ all of which eased him off to sleep.

Later, after searching through all that his uncle’s library had to offer, Howard came to the conclusion (decision really, as there weren’t any definitive facts) that that place deep in his chest that rumbled in satisfaction was the presence of his wolf, it had to be, his other half; and that all the rumbles and hums and whispered words all came from the wolf’s instincts and his own state of being.

Two halves of one whole.

Cool.

 

“Right. So, just because we’ve pulled you from school does not mean that you will never have to deal with bullies ever again. Them pricks will follow you throughout life, and despite what people will try and peddle you, being the bigger man is almost always bullshit.”

Howard watched his uncle pace back and forth, wearing a soft tread in the shin high grass of the field that stretched across from the house. Judging by the shapes his arms were making, he could only guess that his uncle was building up agitation as he went on.

“This is why I’m going to teach to how to punch. And control whatever superpower strength you may have lurking deep in you. Do I know if you’re super strong because of your furry little companion? Nope. But I know you can’t defend yourself and that’s brought us here. Because kids are cruel and vicious and… _God,_ they’re just the _worst._ They’re so mean. And they don’t grow out that, oh no, that just manifests in different ways as those shits get older and the hurt they cause takes on a different shape. What’s up with that?” Uncle John paused his pacing a couple feet to the left of Howard with a blank expression. “I was going somewhere with this.”

Howard really was the only sane one in his family. God, he hoped someday he’d make friends who were saner than his family.

“You were teaching me to punch?”

“Defend!” Uncle John cried, hand jerking up to illustrate how serious the term ‘defend’ was. It was mostly just a bunch of sharp shaky pointing, but Howard figured that was what his uncle was trying to do. Mostly though, this was starting to shape up like that skit from _Monty Python_ , Howard was waiting for fresh fruit to make an appearance.

“Right.”

“We’re going to focus on blocking and you throwing a fist. Then when we get tired of doing this, it should be time for tea and _then,”_ a manic gleam lit up his uncle’s eyes, “we can start on astronomy. Your da and I picked out two constellations and some stars that you are going to find. I’ve been reading up on the legends and boy, are they not great”

Howard already knew which activity would draw more of his attention.

 

 

 


End file.
